The Disappearing Girl

by Heather Topham Wood

  “Would you like to eat dinner with us? I could see if Jess and Danielle want to come along, too?” I asked.

  “The twins went home for the weekend, but I’ll come to dinner. Are you actually going to eat this time?” Brittany’s light tone sounded forced as she spoke to Lila. “Can you please tell your sister she has lost enough weight?”

  As Brittany and Lila locked eyes, I could see something silent pass between them. Lila nervously bit her lip and tried to mimic Brittany’s levity. “I know, right? What are you, like a hundred pounds now?”

  “Hardly,” I said dryly. My head bounced back and forth between the two of them. “What is this?”

  “Nothing,” Brittany said hurriedly. “It’s just hard not to notice you’re super skinny and barely eat.”

  “It’s not like I’m underweight.” I held up my arm and pointed to the skin under my arm. “Look at this, I still have batwings.”

  “There’s not an ounce of fat on you,” Brittany insisted incredulously.

  Her eyes were unreadable and I had the paranoid thought she was only saying these things because she wanted to keep me in my place as her fat sidekick. I’d always been her buffer when we went out, the chunky friend forced to entertain the friend of the guy she was interested in. Brittany never voiced the truth of our arrangement, but I had silently accepted the terms long ago.

  “She’s right, Kayla. I only see skin and bones.” Lila’s small voice interrupted my thoughts.

  How could they not see the fat there? Was the flesh I saw in my mind much thicker than it actually was? I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I had come so far, suffered the consequences to try and have the body I always wanted. I wouldn’t let anyone’s jealousy derail my plans to have the perfect shape.

  “What is this, gang up on Kayla night?” I asked before sending a challenging stare toward Brittany. “I thought you wanted to do something fun with my sister.”

  “I’m sorry, Kayla. You’re right; we should have fun tonight. Since we both have hot boyfriends that never want us out of their beds, we hardly see each other anymore.”

  My eyebrows pulled together. “Filter in front of my teenage sister, please.”

  “Sorry, Little Kayla.” She nodded sagely. “Hold on to your v-card as long as possible. Once boys hear you’re no longer a virgin, they expect you to spread your legs all the time.”

  “If my mother calls me and accuses me of corrupting my sister during her visit, I’m throwing you under the bus and letting her know exactly what wise advice you gave her.”

  Brittany shuddered exaggeratedly. “Your mother scares me. I’ve seen pit bulls with nicer dispositions.”

  “No kidding,” I muttered

  I couldn’t shake the sense that Brittany and Lila had joined forces and decided I was their project for the night. When we arrived at the restaurant, they put in an order for an appetizer sampler platter. The platter was a dieter’s nightmare, piled high with fried mozzarella sticks, stuffed potato skins, and Buffalo wings. Their conversation stalled when it was my turn to order, and I understood my food choices were being evaluated. With nothing on the menu with less than five hundred calories, besides an undressed salad, I settled on a chicken sandwich. I could feel the collective sigh as I handed the menu back to the waiter.

  “So, how are things at home?”

  My sister’s eyes grew distant at my question. The familiar remorse plagued me, and I hated myself all over again for leaving home. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone in her pain. A hundred miles hadn’t allowed me to escape the anguish of my father’s death and my mother’s harsh criticisms. “It’s Hell on Earth living with Mom,” Lila said quietly.

  I took a small sip of my water before speaking. “I’ll be home for the summer soon. I’m still writing online articles so I’ll be able to work at night and we’ll have all day to hang out.”

  Disbelief sneaked into Lila’s expression. “You have a boyfriend now. And after that crap Mom pulled the last time you brought him around, it’s not like you’re going to have him come over again.”

  “I haven’t talked to Cameron about the summer. I’m not sure how serious he is about us and whether he’d want to stay together once I’m back home.”

  “Enough with this feeling sorry for yourself, Kayla. The man can’t see straight when it comes to you. He would’ve totally stood by you if you were really pregnant,” Brittany said resolutely. I glared at her.

  Lila paled. “You thought you were pregnant?”

  “Brittany is overreacting. It wasn’t that big of a deal.” My nonchalance was failing miserably. Lila looked more upset by my casual indifference. I felt the need to clarify things for her. “My period was late because I’ve lost weight. It’s very common to have irregular periods when you’re dieting.” As with most of my assertions about what is normal, I made it up as I went along. I had no idea if it was common, but I still hadn’t gotten my period.

  “But you told Cameron you thought you were pregnant? How did he react?” Lila leaned forward in anticipation. Her color had returned to normal and I could see she was eager to hear what happened. Maybe hearing about my endless drama would distract her from how tough things must be at home.

  “He was great,” I admitted. “He is great and everything I always wanted in a guy.” I paused and tapped mindlessly on the table for a minute before continuing, “But I feel like it’s too good to be real. Either his true nature is going to be revealed over time or he’s going to wake up one morning and realize I’m not the girl he wants.”

  “I hate to be blunt.” I smiled at Brittany’s obvious lie. “But your mother has mind-fucked both of you for way too long. She’s obviously jealous because her daughters outshine her and she wants to make you both as miserable as she is. Don’t let her win. Be happy with Cameron and stop trying to make yourself ‘prettier’”—Brittany used air quotes—“for her sake.” Brittany sat back in her chair.

  It sounded simple: Just turn off the voice inside of me insisting I was fat, ugly, and unlovable. Yet the feelings were too ingrained inside my head. My only possibility of salvation was to stop eating until the skinny girl emerged from within.

  Once the food arrived, I didn’t pause between bites. It was hard to put into words my mindset when I binged and purged. It was addictive—the satisfying fullness of the food resting in my stomach, followed by the sense of release when I forced it back up. Although the vomiting part was disgusting, in some ways, binging and purging was easier than not eating at all. At the basest level, I was comforted by the idea that at least I’d be able to taste some of my favorite foods.

  I mumbled an excuse and bolted to the bathroom as soon as I polished off my sandwich and fries. Getting sick in public was one of the least pleasant things. It was a challenge to stay quiet as my finger jabbed into the back of my raw throat, causing me to gag loudly. In high-traffic bathrooms like the one at the restaurant, it was almost impossible to wait until the place emptied out. I could only imagine what my fellow bathroom guests thought when they heard gagging followed by the distinctive splashing when my dinner went into the toilet.

  “Kayla,” Lila called. Spinning around, I saw her familiar Converse sneakers behind the stall door.

  “Yes?” My voice was strangled from bile and fear. My throat stung as acid sloshed against the back of my throat. I wiped at the toilet furiously with a piece of toilet paper, removing evidence of my sickness.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think?” I snapped. “What do most people normally do in the bathroom?”

  A piece of regurgitated food had splashed on my jeans. After swiping it away with my hand, I hoped the stain was small enough Lila wouldn’t notice. Opening the door, I elbowed by her and headed straight to the sink. She stood silently behind me as I feverishly scrubbed at my hands with the hottest water I could stand. Finally, I met her eyes in the mirror.

  The bathroom was mostly empty by then, only a single person left in one of the stalls
. Lila was swimming behind me, my eyesight watery. “Please,” I mouthed to her.

  Comprehension dawned on her face, as she understood my request: I couldn’t get into it then and there. Let me be for now. She shook her head and flew from the bathroom.

  My shame overtook me. This was the example I was setting for my teenage sister. Her opinion of me would be forever altered. I would no longer be the big sister she looked up to; instead, I would be the girl who did whatever it took to get thin.

  By Brittany’s neutral expression when I returned to the table, I guessed Lila hadn’t filled her in on the bathroom episode. I was grateful for the concession. I couldn’t stand the thought of Brittany fully realizing the extremity of my dieting.

  Lila cleared her throat uncomfortably. Our matching dark eyes locked across the table. We had such physical similarities that many times it did seem as if I was looking at a younger version of myself. The irony was I could see the loveliness in my sister, but not in myself. The longer I stared at her, the more I discovered the same desolation reflected in her eyes, a sadness reaching to the bottomless depths of our cores.

  Later, we lay silently in bed next to each other. Brittany had begged off about an hour earlier to meet up with Kurt at a party off-campus. I had disappeared into the shower at her departure, terrified of being alone with my little sister. The hot water did nothing to ease my stress or erase the feelings of filth I had over forcing myself to throw up.

  Once I was beside Lila, she rested on her left hip and stared at me wide-eyed. Lila was the one person I found it the most difficult to lie to. Although we’d been close before, our bond changed after my father’s death. We relied on each other and expected the other to always be honest about what we were feeling. If I was in pain, Lila would want to share it.

  “You’ve been puking to get skinny?”

  I cowered at her directness. Lila was contradictory. My mother knew her only as a mousy girl who was an average student. But Lila was a million things more than that.

  I averted my eyes. “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered sarcastically, “maybe the way you run to the bathroom after you eat and the stash of snacks I found in your closet. I’ve never heard of a diet where Twinkies and cupcakes help you lose weight.”

  “Lila, it’s not that big of a deal …”

  “Of course it’s a big deal! I’ve taken health classes, Kayla, you have an eating disorder.” She sat up and her eyes grew distant. “You can’t do this to yourself. If you drop dead on me like Dad …”

  I bolted up straight in the bed. “You’re jumping to conclusions. It’s not as bad as you think. You’d be surprised how many other college girls try to get their weight down by occasionally getting sick.”

  “Do you hear yourself? You sound like one of the anorexic girls from the videos they show in health class to scare us to death.” Kayla bit down on her lip, apparently thinking over what to say next. “I know Mom always makes us feel like we’re freakishly obese, but I thought you always understood she’s wrong. We never let her force us into a diet before. We’d eat her ridiculous salads and water, but then go for McDonald’s runs later. What changed?”

  Her words stung. How could a sixteen-year-old girl gain this much insight while I was floundering to understand my actions? How could I sit in front of her and admit something inside of me had snapped months before? I was in so much pain, and the only way I could figure out how to get rid of it was to remove as much flesh from myself as possible.

  “I’m fine, Lila. I was just tired of feeling fat all the time. I probably shouldn’t be throwing up, but honestly, I don’t do it that often. For the most part, I only try to watch what I eat.” I shrugged.

  Her expression was unimpressed. “You were home for spring break and I saw what you ate. I think most days you had a piece of bread and fruit for dinner. How can you survive on that?” Her voice broke and tears rolled down her pale cheeks. She reached for me and wrapped her arms tightly around my midsection. “Each time I see you, you’re shrinking more and more into yourself. I’m scared one day I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone for good.”

  “I’m sorry, Lila. I don’t know what to say. I can only say I have everything under control. Although I’ve lost weight, I’m perfectly healthy.” My voice caught on the last phrase. Although I was skinnier, I didn’t feel particularly healthy. I was tired almost constantly and my stomach hurt more often than not. The acid from throwing up was also affecting my teeth and I had to be vigilant with the use of whitening strips and baking soda rinses to avoid any further damage. I wouldn’t go to the dentist for fear of my bulimia being evident as soon as I opened my mouth for the exam.

  “Please try to eat more. I want my sister back. Not a skeleton that resembles her.” Lila was obviously trying to dispel the heaviness of the conversation, so I didn’t take offense. I only hugged her tighter and leaned my chin on top of her head.

  We sat there wordlessly for a long time. I couldn’t make her any promises. I was too far gone. I couldn’t simply begin eating normally and allow pound after pound of fat to accumulate beneath my skin. The thought sickened me. I was sorry for the pain I was causing Lila, but gaining weight was one of my deepest and darkest fears.

  Chapter Twenty

  The images on the TV passed before my eyes in a blur. Beautiful faces all staring back at me, secret smiles playing on their lips, bliss shining through their eyes. I envied everything about them—their effortless beauty, their thin and toned bodies. But most of all, I coveted their happiness.

  I was sprawled across Cameron’s couch. Minutes earlier, he had come up next to me and tried to coax me to dinner. I waved him off, but he was persistent. He had spent the past hour cooking spaghetti and meatballs while I was a motionless blob on his couch. The least I could do was eat, but at that second I’d rather have traveled to the depths of Hell than put food in my body.

  My funk had worsened since Lila left to return home the previous weekend. I missed her fiercely. She had left on a sour note, her disapproval over my diet still clear in the tightness of her expression. “Think about what Dad would say,” she told me. It was a manipulative thing to say and her words haunted me. I didn’t want to think about my father. He was dead; thinking about him only reminded me of the years that stretched ahead of me, where I’d have to endure without him.

  I tuned back into Cameron’s words. “Kayla, I’ve been looking forward to having a romantic dinner with you all week. Can you try a little?”

  My body felt heavy as I got up from the sofa. If everyone claimed I was so thin, why did I feel so weighted down? I shuffled along behind him as he led me to the table.

  It was beautifully set. He had lit a single white candle and positioned it between our place settings. A filled wine glass sat beside a plate covered with steaming hot pasta smothered in marinara sauce with meatballs. Any girl would be thrilled to find her boyfriend had gone to the trouble to be romantic—but I was far from any girl.

  I felt myself growing irate as I collapsed into the chair. I wasn’t sure why he couldn’t understand I was trying to avoid fatty foods. Instead of supporting my efforts, my friends and family seemed to be determined to undermine everything I’d done to better myself.

  Cameron ate silently for several minutes. My dinner lay untouched, and I felt time slow down as I waited for him to finish. I wasn’t going to be bullied into eating when food was the last thing I wanted in my body.

  His eyes turned cold as he stared at me. “What are you doing? Why haven’t you started eating?”

  I was a petulant child, refusing to eat, despite the promises the food in front of me would make me healthy again. I pressed my lips together in a tighter line and crossed my arms over my chest.

  Cameron’s temper was building. I could feel the tension in the air. He was showing restraint when all he probably wanted to do was to scream at me for my irrational behavior. His voice was strained. “Kayla, you’ve been here all day an
d you haven’t eaten a thing …”

  My expression was deadly as we locked gazes. “When the hell did it become everyone’s business whether or not I eat? Last time I checked, it was my body.”

  I could tell what he was thinking by the way his features twisted. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the quiet and meek girl he’d been dating. This girl was bitter and wanted to unleash her rage on those around her.

  “Lila called me, Kayla,” Cameron said in a resigned tone. I hadn’t successfully incited his anger. He refused to be pushed away. I could play chicken with him endlessly—he’d still never be the first one to yield.

  “Why would my sister call you?”

  “She told me she heard you throwing up in the bathroom. She found a stockpile of snacks and thinks you’ve been forcing yourself to get sick for a while now to lose weight…”

  “Lila is sixteen years old. She’s a child and has no right to make accusations and go behind my back and call my boyfriend.”

  “Kayla, she’s scared. And so am I,” he admitted. “You never want to do anything because you’re tired all the time. You’re constantly canceling our plans because you claim you’re not feeling well …”

  “I don’t want to hear this. You and Lila had no right to talk about me behind my back.” I jumped up from the table, knocking over my chair in the process.

  “Kayla, you have to start eating better. These habits aren’t healthy,” he insisted. Getting out of his chair, he took careful, measured steps across the room.

  “You said Scarlett does crazy diets all the time. It’s not that big of a deal to try different things to lose weight,” I countered.

  “That’s not what you’re doing. Your diet has turned into something else entirely,” he said softly.

  “Fine! You want me to eat, then I’ll eat.” I shoved past him roughly and headed to his cupboards. Opening one of the cabinets, I blindly grabbed at packages of food. After ripping into a box of cookies, I shoved a handful in my mouth. Crumbs tumbled out of my mouth as I demanded, “Is this what you want? Does it make you happy? Because I’m sure I won’t be hearing from you once I become fat again.”